


Some Of Us Are Better Actors Than Others

by InfiniteInMystery



Category: Gintama
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Blood, Character Study, Crying, Drug Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ginzura if you squint, Hurt/Comfort, Important Discussions, M/M, Maybe a one shot?, Of Course There's Crying, Overdose, Recovery, Self-Blame, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This is literally pure angst with some comfort at the end, Working through them hardships, ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 17:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20877917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteInMystery/pseuds/InfiniteInMystery
Summary: Katsura makes an unexpected but very important visit to Gintoki.





	Some Of Us Are Better Actors Than Others

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you.
> 
> Read the warnings.

There was an itch lately, something electrifying and flighty, always twitching in Katsura's fingertips. Nights like these were common now where Katsura froze up in his empty home, standing in the dark like a stranger in his own kitchen, trying to force his rampaging mind silent. He was cold again, thin skin prickling in the chill of his house. He'd turned the heat off hours ago to give himself something real to focus on, after he had easily convinced Elizabeth to leave so he could pace freely. He knew he shouldn't have sent her away, but lately, he found he didn't care. _(He did care, he cared too much.)_

Lately he felt like he had, back on the battlefield, back then before Gintoki had told him to stand up and live beautifully. Gintoki's encouraging words after Katsura tried to make the wrong choice.

_The wrong choice._

_ Wasn't I making tea?_ With force, he managed to move towards the counter in the dark, his actions choppy as he grabbed the kettle from the usual spot. The stainless steel clacked against the sink when he placed it under the tap. _I wasn't thinking about anything important._

There was an itch under his skin again, burning for attention. Katsura briefly wondered if this was how Gintoki felt, staring into one bottle too many. If this itch was why Takasugi had turned to the pipe and physical destruction, always throwing himself into any and every fight without a second thought.

Katsura had no reason to feel this itch. He didn't feel he had an excuse like Takasugi and Gintoki did, didn't feel like he was _allowed_ to feel this way. He hadn't suffered half of what they had, after all, and this feeling had started to build out of nowhere, festering like an open wound.

_Maybe this feeling has always been here..._

Shoving that thought aside, Katsura turned the water on, leaning forward against the counter as he watched the kettle fill up. He had no reason to lament. It was because of Takasugi's support and constant backup that Katsura had physically survived the war. It had been because of Gintoki and his aloof wisdom that Katsura had mentally survived, hadn't given in and committed seppuku every time he considered giving up – and Gintoki knows how many times _that_ happened. Without Gintoki and Takasugi, what was he? They gave him everything, they made him everything he was. But what did he do for them? What kind of support had he given them?

_ Nothing._

He had nothing to complain about.

The kettle was overflowing. Impassively, Katsura turned the tap off, his ears ringing. He picked up the kettle, pouring some of the water out of it before putting it on the stove and flicking the burner on. Staring at it, listening to the water sizzle on the bottom of the kettle as it heated up, Katsura slipped his hands into his sleeves. His fingers squeezed around his forearms, nails digging into skin. He'd been thinking too much lately, been reminiscing too much.

He knew what _this_ was, but he would never admit it. He was in control of it still. It came and went just like Gintoki's lower moods, and soon this phase would be forgotten.

_ I have nothing to __grieve__._ Katsura's nails pierced through skin and continued to do so. The kettle was whistling, but he didn't hear it. His fingertips were thrumming with energy again, the itch burning through his veins, the shadows in his heart calling out to him in the dead of night. He wasn't allowed to feel this way. Gintoki was managing with blood on his very soul and a lifetime of remorse and pain he didn't deserve. Takasugi had finally stopped wrapping his eye, a healed injury no longer treated as a fresh wound. Both of them were itching just like Katsura, both of them fatalistic and self-destructive and_ justified_ in their misery, but both of them were healing now.

Katsura was just grasping for reasons. Trying to find excuses to explain why he felt so dead inside, why he needed to open wounds he had hid since day one. By admitting this, by asking for help, Katsura would just pull them both back down.

_They don't need me..._

He needed to stop thinking before it got out of hand. He had Elizabeth. He had the Joui. He had goals. He wasn't just living on autopilot these days.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the sound of the kettle, on the whistle signifying that the water was boiling. He focused on the chill in the air and the pain blossoming in his arms.  
  
_(He focused on the pain blossoming in his arms.)_

–

The rasp on the door had been hardly audible over the drama rerun Gintoki had fallen asleep to, but the noise had been gentle enough that Gintoki had woken alert and wary. He was off the couch in a heartbeat, his bare feet silent on the floor. By Kagura's closet, Sadaharu had perked up, ears pricked and alert, eyes also trained towards the entrance hall. Behind that closet door, Kagura still slept soundly.

Gintoki raised a hand to the dog, _stay_, before padding towards the hall, ears straining in the quiet hours of the early morning for any sign of danger. When he passed the kitchen, the digital clock on his stove read just before two in angry red numbers.

Gintoki silently stepped into the entrance hall, soundless feet moving towards the front door. His sword was already drawn, ready at his side should the need arise, but also hidden out of view in case it was someone non-threatening. _E__veryone I know who would come by at this time would just let themselves in._ It was dark, the only light coming from the television behind him. That was more light than he needed to kick an ass.

Outside, it was even darker when he slid the door open, his front step empty. Every hair on his body had risen, ready for a fight, eyes scanning the silent deck suspiciously. He almost jumped when he caught sight of someone hiding to the left, a body pressed up against the wall beside the door, hidden in the shadows. Gintoki was out of the threshold of his entrance immediately, sword raising for a fight when he realized who this person was.

Leaning there, Katsura stood with his head tilted back. His eyes were closed, jaw clenched so tight Gintoki could see the outline of muscles in his neck. He didn't seem to notice that Gintoki had opened the door, was frozen solid where he stood with his hands behind him, pressing into the wall.

“Zura?”

Blearily, Katsura opened his eyes. He turned his head Gintoki's way, eyelids red-rimmed and damp. His face was scrunched, eyebrows drawn together in pain, and the left side of his mouth was wet with blood. In the moonlight, his skin glowed sickly, a thin layer of sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead. He was breathing heavy, his pupils constricted.

“Zura? You okay?” Gintoki asked, moving from the doorway. He reached out for Katsura's forearm while he sheathed his blade through his belt, his eyes suddenly drawn to the blood on Katsura's fingertips. Suddenly, Gintoki had both hands on Katsura's arms, holding him like he might fall. Worry sparked in his chest, eyes flitting up Katsura's blood-speckled yukata. “Zura-”

“I-” Zura leaned forward into Gintoki, spinelessly sagging into him. His bloody hands gently clung to Gintoki's yukata as he rested his head against Gintoki's left shoulder. He smelled like sake and vomit and blood. “Whole bottle-”

“What?” Gintoki asked, hands on Katsura's arms to keep him upright. The Joui leader was swaying on his feet, his lips trembling as he struggled to speak. He looked more than just drunk. “What happened?”

“I took-” Zura groaned, eyelids fluttering before turning up to meet Gintoki's, “took the whole bottle-”

Gintoki's thoughts went blank, dread settling into his stomach. “..._what?_”

“Aspirin-”

_ Holy shit._

Gintoki wrapped his arms around Katsura's midsection, dragging him limply into the house, out of the cold. He pushed him against the hallway wall, hands firm and steady on Katsura's arms to support him, sliding the door closed with his foot. _What did he just say to me?_ Gintoki struggled to find the light switch, hand swiping madly over the wall for a moment. He was panting like he had been running. He didn't even feel the burn when the blinding light flicked on. “W-what? You took what?”

Katsura's eye squeezed shut at the assaulting light. He lifted a bloody hand – the blood was coming from inside his sleeves, running in fresh rivulets – grabbing Gintoki's yukata when he was jostled. Gintoki had to repeat his question before Katsura responded. “Threw 'em up-”

“That doesn't fucking matter!” Gintoki snapped, hands clenching around Katsura's shoulders. He tried to lower his voice, suddenly very aware of Kagura sleeping in the other room, but the panic still rang clear. He grabbed Katsura's wrist, eyes flickering to it briefly, already seeing too much blood. “How many did you take, Zura? How many?”

“Whole bottle.” Katsura said, eyelids fluttering closed. “Threw 'em up. Promise.”

“Zura, Zura that doesn't matter, fuck.” Gintoki said, trying not to shake him. Even if he'd taken the smallest bottle, that was still easily twenty pills. There was still a chance some of them had absorbed, still a chance too many hadn't been brought up, still a chance Katsura would just suddenly spit up blood and then drop dead. “Zura, open your eyes. When did you take them? When?”

Katsura hummed, eyes prying back open. “Midnight? One??”

An hour or so? Only one or two hours ago? Would he be okay? Gintoki had no idea but he'd only felt his stomach drop like this once before, and that had been on that hill with that sword in his hand and Shouyou kneeling before him. When the decision he was about to make could be either life or death. “Zura, we need to get you to the hospital-”

“No.” Katsura moaned, leaning forward. His eyes were wet, but the tears weren't falling. “No, no, I came 'ere 'cause 'm sorry. I made a mistake.”

“Zura-” _He regrets it. _Gintoki froze, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts and stop the gentle tremor in his hands. He… he didn't actually know what to do. Zura was talking to him, was coherent, but that could change in a matter of seconds. One second, Katsura could be fine, the next, he could just be- he could- it had been at least an _hour_ though- but he looked _bad._

“Shit, Zura. No. No, no, no. You're coming inside.” Jerkily, Gintoki gathered Katsura into his arms again, half guiding, half dragging him through the hall into the bathroom just in case Kagura woke up. Zura was murmuring into his shoulder, clinging to him weakly, the smell of alcohol suddenly hitting Gintoki's nose again. _Is he drunk? How the hell did he get all the way here like this?_

In the bathroom, Gintoki sat him down on the floor one hand pushing sweaty bangs away as he leaned Zura against the corner of the wall where he wouldn't fall over. Hot and clammy, Gintoki wasn't sure what that meant. He pressed two fingers underneath Katsura's jaw, his pulse quick but strong. “Zura, did you drink anything? Did you take them with alcohol?”

“No.” Katsura said. But then he looked away guiltily. “Yes.”

Every expletive Gintoki knew almost left his mouth. Almost. He had never wanted to slap some sense into Katsura so bad before. He managed to keep his frustration to himself, reminded himself that Katsura could have _not_ come, could _not_ be telling him a single thing. Could be at home, lying on his bathroom floor _dying_. Gintoki managed to keep his voice calm. “How much did you drink? And what?”

“Whole bottle.” Katsura said, eyes closing. He placed a hand to his forehead, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Sake.”

Gintoki only hoped his behavior was from the alcohol and not from an overdose. The neck of a bottle would knock Katsura on his ass, let alone the whole thing. _But mixing the two together?_ “Okay. It's okay-”

“Was already drunk when I made the decision.”

_ He got drunk, and then washed the pills down? _Gintoki stared, trying to make heads and tails of what he was hearing. Was attempting to understand what Katsura was trying to tell him. It was so simple but it was _Katsura._

“Zura, you're gonna be fine.” Gintoki said quietly, thumb on Katsura's jaw. Katsura closed his eyes again. “Did you take anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay, okay.” Gintoki said, shifting like he was about to stand. “Let me get my keys-”

Katsura grabbed for him before he could raise off his knees, reaching up for Gintoki's hand and missing by an inch. His sleeve slid up, exposing a loosely wrapped cloth soaked in blood that immediately caught Gintoki's attention. In his panic, he had forgotten about the blood. “No hospitals.”

Gintoki didn't say anything. He clicked his mouth shut as he grabbed Katsura firmly by the wrist, using his other hand to slide the sleeve up his arm. He didn't say anything as he pulled the bloody cloth loose, what looked like it had once belonged to an old towel, a hastily made bandage. Didn't even cringe as he revealed messy slashes and too much intentionally shredded skin, blood oozing from several wounds that were too deep for comfort.

They had been made by a blade; Gintoki had seen enough of them to know what he was looking at. They didn't look fatal if he treated them fast enough; he'd seen worse. Gintoki placed the cloth back, wrapping it tighter than Katsura had, his hands firm and careful. He wasn't understanding what was happening here, this was _Katsura_. He was supposed to be the most stable out of the three of them so why-

“Stay here.” Gintoki said, his tone low as he stood up. He didn't give Katsura a second glance, didn't give him a chance to respond.

Quickly, Gintoki left the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a second. He glanced to his feet, exhaling out his anxiety, trying to mentally crash through everything that had just happened and make sense of it. He needed to be calm. Shit. What just happened? Was he dreaming? Having a nightmare? What was he supposed to do? If Zura hadn't intentionally thrown up those pills, maybe the sake was the only reason Katsura hadn't kept them down? He was a lightweight. Gintoki couldn't remember a time when Katsura was drunk and _hadn't_ been throwing up his guts. _Did he do it on purpose or did he just get lucky?_

Apparently, Gintoki wasn't having a nightmare, because he jumped when Kagura yawned in the doorway. He hadn't even heard her get up, hadn't heard Sadaharu come over either. Kagura was clutching her blanket to her chest, her red hair mussed and eyes bleary with exhaustion.

“Gin-chan? Why were you yelling?” Behind her, Sadaharu poked his head into the doorway, eyes trained on the bathroom door. His ears were perked, eyes intense.

Gintoki chuckled out of habit. “Yelling? Oh. The, uh. The toilet. And the sink. Clogged. Hey, can you go get the old lady? Tell her to bring the yellow tool kit. You might as well sleep down there with Sadaharu. The place is gonna smell here in a few minutes. Ha ha.”

“Gross.” Kagura said, staring at him sleepily. “Your shit clogged the toilet?”

“Yeah-”

“Okay.” Kagura said, yawning wide again. “Sadaharu, let's go before we have to get the gas masks.” Without even questioning it, Kagura strode past him into the doorway, kicking on her shoes. She threw her blanket over her shoulders like a cape before going out into the cold, sliding the front door open with a loud 'goodnight'. Sadaharu followed behind her, his eyes still locked on the bathroom door until the front door was closed behind him.

Gintoki watched her go, his mouth going dry the second the door was closed. Shutting his eyes, he placed a hand against his forehead, trying to think, trying to come up with a plan of action. He placed a second hand to his forehead and hid his face when nothing came to mind, no explanation, no idea what the hell he was dealing with or how to fix it. How did this even happen? Katsura was the last person he expected to face like this.

Moments later, Gintoki was on autopilot, rushing to his bedroom for the emergency medical kit he had stashed in his closet, the one with the stitches for nastier wounds and extra bandages for when he ran out, because this was all he could do right now. Katsura was bleeding, and all Gintoki could do was try to patch him up to the best of his ability.

He was back in the bathroom as fast as he could after a quick stop to the linen cabinet. With the medical kit and a wet cloth in hand, he dropped down to his knees in front of Katsura, the kit clacking down to the floor beside him as he hastily opened it. Focused, he began to rummage around.

“You mad?” Katsura asked, his voice incredibly quiet. He sounded calmer, the slur from before not as bad.

“Scared.” Gintoki admitted, digging through the kit, pulling out everything he would need to stitch up the worst of Katsura's arm. He slid Katsura's sleeve up, tapping it once above the elbow so Katsura would hold the fabric in place, before quickly unwinding the towel once again. “Why did you do it?”

Katsura sighed, head leaning back against the wall. “Don't know. Drank too much.”

“The alcohol is not an excuse.” Gintoki said, his tone a little sharp as he discarded the bloody towel to the side. He knew better than most that alcohol was an enabler, knew a desire had to be there before alcohol could give him the confidence to _just do it_. He picked up the wet cloth, firmly pressing it to the worst of the wounds. He tried to dab off as much of the blood as he could, tried not to tug too much on the raw flesh. “You've thought about this before?”

Katsura was quiet for a moment. “Haven't you?”

“Don't give me that.”

“Remember when you told me to live beautifully?” Katsura asked, continuing on even though Gintoki scoffed in response to that question. “What happens if I'm just living?”

Gintoki glanced up, mouth pulled thin. “What?”

“Just living.” Katsura repeated. “What happens if I'm meaningless? What happens if my presence doesn't actively change anything? Doesn't make anything… sparkle?”

“You're not meaningless.” Gintoki said, attention going back to Katsura's arm and trying not to think too hard about what Katsura was trying to get at. He turned back to the medical kit. “It might not be enough, but you're really important to me. And next time you feel like you have to do something like _this_, I want you to come here first.”

“I'm sorry.” Katsura said quietly, just as the front door slowly slid open. “I shouldn't come here like this-”

“Come here.” Gintoki said sternly, pausing, identifying the familiar footsteps in the hallway. He glanced up, eyes wide, hoping Katsura could see the honesty on his face. “_Please._ Where is this all coming from? This isn't like you at all.”

Katsura's eyes turned dark. “But isn't it?”

Otose's sigh echoed through the entrance hall. She sounded tired already, and she had yet to find out what was actually going on. “Gintoki, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?”

Gintoki grimaced, diligently stitching up the worst of Katsura's slashes. He was neat about it, knew Katsura would complain later if he wasn't. _Hoped_ Katsura would complain later, hoped this would blow by them and just be one of those awkward topics they laughed about and passed over in the future. Hoped Gintoki didn't have yet another date every year to drink himself into alcohol poisoning.

Katsura only closed his eyes again. Remained silent.

Otose entered the bathroom, pausing. In her hand was her yellow medical kit, the super kit she had put together when Gintoki had first proved to be a trouble magnet. That kit had saved his life on multiple occasions. It had been misleading of Gintoki to ask for it; he'd wanted Otose up here for a second opinion without Kagura realizing that something was very, very wrong. At this point, he didn't think Katsura _needed_ the kit, but he would rather be safe than sorry. What if he hadn’t had enough stitches? Or any bandages left? The pills still made him uncomfortable, the lack of knowledge on when it was safe to assume they'd already run their course. If they had been consumed a couple of hours ago, they wouldn't suddenly take effect now… right?

In the doorway, Otose's eyes fell on Katsura propped in the corner. She glanced over his exposed arm, over his slack posture and closed eyes before her attention turned sharply to Gintoki. “What happened?”

Before he could answer, his face must have leaked his distraught emotions because Otose's eyes softened. She moved closer, kneeling down beside Gintoki, reaching for Katsura's other arm. She pressed two fingers to his pulse point, turning his hand palm up, eyes locked on the superficial scratch just above his wrist like he had quit his frenzy once he had switched sides. Like maybe he had realized he had succumbed to the darkness howling in his heart and regretted it.

“I'm fine.” Katsura said, his voice very quiet, eyes still closed.

“You're gonna be.” Gintoki reminded, working diligently, eyes glued to torn skin. Katsura was lucky he hadn't bled out. _He's lucky he got everything out of his stomach before it could kill him, too._ But then again, if Katsura had intended to bleed out, he would have. _Working yourself up to it?_ Gintoki finally grimaced.

“What happened? Look at me.” Otose asked again. She reached for Katsura's face, thumb and forefinger on his jaw, gently tilting his head her way. His eyes fluttered open, tired gaze meeting Otose's. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned over his pupils. “You drunk?”

Katsura hummed in agreement.

“He threw up a bottle of aspirin.” Gintoki said, finishing up the stitches. Some of the wounds weren't too bad, could get away with just being cleaned. He started to wrap them, his actions choppy. “Threw up a whole bottle...”

“Gintoki, go get him a glass of water.” Otose said. She was using _that_ tone, the tone that made Gintoki feel ten years younger. He felt bad for a second, that Katsura would have to go through whatever Otose planned to say, but if it stopped _this_ from ever happening again?

Gintoki didn't respond, finished wrapping Katsura's arm instead. Once the bandages were secure, Gintoki gave Katsura's hand a quick pat before standing up. Tracking him with his eyes, Katsura looked like he wanted to be anywhere besides here, looked like he wanted to say something. But he didn't.

“I'll be right back.” Gintoki said blandly. He left the bathroom quickly, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Katsura was probably going to get the talking to of a lifetime.

Purposefully, Gintoki headed into the kitchen, mind a little distant as he moved around, collecting a cup and filling it up with water. His thoughts were awfully silent given the circumstances, his heart strikingly empty. It was slowly catching up to him what was happening, a little voice nagging in the back of his mind that he had_ let_ it get this far, that there had always been something about Katsura, especially lately, that reminded Gintoki too much of himself.

_ You should have seen the signs._ But how could he? Katsura had always been flighty even before the war, here, there, and everywhere. He had business to attend to, places to be, people to see. He'd always been like that. His absence over the past few weeks hadn't been anything out of the ordinary either, his behavior just as bizarre as usual. Had he been avoiding him? Gintoki wasn't even sure. _But he's different now. He changed after the war. There was something… different. But I didn't realize..._

Was this something that had been building beneath the surface since the end of the war? Something that only reared it's ugly head every once in a while? _This is something you're familiar with._ Sighing, Gintoki turned to one of his cupboards, fishing out the kettle. Tea could help. Katsura would never pass up tea. Simply trying to keep himself busy, Gintoki filled the kettle.

He needed to know why, but now wasn't going to be the time to ask. _If our roles were reversed right now and he asked me why, would I have an answer?_

The tea was made and cooling, three cups of Katsura's favorite herbal blend, when Otose appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. She stood there for a moment, arms crossed and expression firm, her eyes locked on Gintoki. At the counter, Gintoki didn't move. He simply glanced her way, taking comfort in how calm she was.

“I'd keep him here for a bit. Few days at least.” Otose said. She sounded grim. “If he starts acting weird, starts puking or complaining of stomach pain, you might want to take him to the hospital. Watch out for him spitting up blood. Nosebleeds too.”

“Is he that bad?” Gintoki asked in nothing more than a whisper.

“No.” Otose said. “It looks like the worst would have already passed. If it were you, I'd keep a close eye on you, but would be prepared to go to the hospital at any moment.”

“Okay.”

“I talked to him.” Otose said, something in her tone making Gintoki's heart skip a beat. Her voice remained soft. “Felt like I was talking to you.” She glanced to the tea then, moving into the kitchen. “If he sticks around too long, make sure you charge him rent.”

“That guy is more broke than I am.” Gintoki huffed a laugh, lightness flooding his chest. He handed Otose her cup before moving away from her. “He'll be okay?”

“Hopefully. I'll see myself out after.”

In the bathroom, Gintoki placed both hands on his hips and sighed. “What are you crying about?”

Katsura glanced up to him, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks wet. “She sure has a way with _words._”

Gintoki chuckled, all of the tension seeping out from him as he kneeled down to pull Katsura into him. Katsura wrapped his arms around Gintoki's neck, shakily using him as support as they stood up. Seemingly more mobile than before, it didn't take them too long to get out of the bathroom, Katsura capable of slowly walking on his own.

In the living room, Otose was sitting on a couch, drinking her tea with a speculative look on her face. She glanced their way as they passed by, but Katsura didn't even look at her. Gintoki caught her smile, wondered briefly what had been said.

In the bedroom, Gintoki let Katsura sit down on the futon Gintoki hadn't made it to before passing out on the couch earlier. After Katsura was seated and not falling over, Gintoki went over to his closet, digging through to try and find something clean for Katsura to change into.

“I'm sorry.”

“You've said that what, three times now?” Gintoki asked. “This isn't something you should apologize for. I get it. I just wish… wished you'd come here first. I wouldn't have turned you away, you know?”

“Do you go to anyone when you're like this?” Katsura asked, stubborn argumentation.

Gintoki turned away from his closet with a clean yukata, settling down in front of Katsura, trying not to let his frustration get the better of him. “No.” He said quietly, setting the fabric down in his lap. He reached out for Katsura's clothes and Katsura didn't push him away as he began to pull at them. “Zura, I know. I know how hard it is but you're not alone. You came here anyway, didn't you? Just… remember this next time and _come_. Zura,_ please_.”

“Yeah.” Katsura said, shifting into the new yukata and wrapping it around him. He sighed so heavily Gintoki could feel the tension dissipating from him. “Can I sleep?”

Gintoki wanted to say no. He wanted to badly because he wanted an explanation and he wanted to chastise him, to make sure this never happened again. But instead, he sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, we'll go to bed.”

Katsura only hummed.

–

Gintoki slept restlessly. He didn't toss and turn like he usually did when he slept bad, if anything, lying still made it even worse. He refused to move around too much, didn't want to jostle Katsura awake. Instead, he found himself staring at the ceiling most of the night, half his focus on Katsura's gentle breathing, half his focus lost in his own head. Wondering. Reflecting. Comparing. _'Felt like I was talking to you.'_

By the time the morning's first rays began to enter his bedroom, Gintoki thought he understood.

_This has to do with Shouyou, doesn't it?_ This wasn't just something had sprung up recently, pushing Katsura's wild boundaries too far. This was something that had been there since the beginning, something lurking beneath the surface. _Something was always off…_

The question was, what was it? Which detail was it that Katsura dwelled on?

When the window was bright with morning light and Gintoki was sick of lying around, he carefully untangled himself from the blanket. He pushed his abandoned side closer to Katsura, his hands lingering for a moment as he watched his breath. Katsura's face was still pale, his lips dry and cracked, but he would probably look like shit for a couple of days. He'd get better. Both satisfied and unsatisfied, Gintoki stood up and left his room.

He stepped around Sadaharu's bed like the Inugami was sprawled in there, heading first to the bathroom and then to the kitchen for something to drink. He contemplated making tea as he turned the kitchen light on, but on second thought it sounded like way too much effort. Later. He'd make tea later.

He got himself a glass of water, downing it, washing away his troubled thoughts with it, before getting another glass for Katsura. He walked back to his bedroom, half hoping Katsura was still asleep so he could also get in a nap, half hoping Katsura had woken so they could just get this _over with_.

When he stepped into the room, he couldn't tell if he sighed in relief or dread. He hadn’t come up with an icebreaker and serious conversations weren't really his forte.

“Good morning.” Katsura said, his voice a little weaker than normal. He was sitting up with the blanket pooled around his lap, fingers combing through the tangled ends of his hair. He looked worse now that he was awake – the bags under his eyes hadn't been shadows after all – but at least he was up and talking. Gintoki shuddered to think how last night could have gone instead.

Katsura rambled on, hands in his hair. “I never thought, I should have put it up last night.”

Gintoki clenched his jaw at that, keeping his mouth shut before he could start on _what else_ Katsura should have thought about before he regretted it. _If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all._ He strode in, sitting down beside Katsura before handing the glass over. Katsura accepted it, silently lost in thought, until Gintoki stole half the blanket off him.

“Hey! It's cold!”

“It's really not.” Gintoki said, scooting closer so he could wrap his fair share of the blanket over his own lap. Katsura didn't fight him for it, was focused on the glass at his lips. Gintoki could see his hand shaking from the effort, muscles and wounds sore. There was no doubt Katsura was hurting.

“Maybe if you ate more, you wouldn't be cold all the time, Zura.” Gintoki sighed, settling in, glad that there was some warmth left and that another cold, lifeless body didn't haunt him at night. _Are you glad he's alive because you love him, or are you glad he's alive because you don't want to feel responsible?_

Gintoki almost missed Katsura's retort.

“It's not Zura, it's Katsura.” Katsura set the half-empty glass down on the tatami beside him, hands returning to his lap. The bandages on his arm would need changing, Gintoki noticed, were spotted with blood. Gintoki hoped the new bandages would remain white.

Gintoki decided to just go for it, to start this conversation while he had the chance, his tone giving away his intentions. “Zura-”

“Gintoki, I know what you're going to say about last night.” Katsura said. His voice was raspy but confident. Too confident. Gintoki felt like he was about to be lectured even though _Katsura_ had been the one to hurt himself. “Let's just cut out the avoidant part of the conversation where I pretend it's not that bad and you pretend you can't relate to any of this at all. Gintoki, you're no different than me.”

“Excuse me?” Gintoki asked. He tried to reign in his tone, but Katsura had this bad habit of being immediately problematic in _all_ situations. Even this. “What do you mean, I'm no different? And what did you assume I was going to say?”

“I assumed you were going to look at me and go something like, 'Zura, what the hell were you thinking last night?'” Katsura said, using his best Gintoki-voice that could have been funny in any other situation. “And I want to tell you before you even start with me that you already know the answer.”

“What?” Gintoki asked, his tone incredulous. “You're telling me I already know why you did what you did last night? You think if I knew what was going on in that head of yours, I wouldn't have stepped in to stop you sooner?”

“No, I'm saying that you know why I did it because you have some of the same thoughts as me.” Katsura said. He sounded so _sure_.

“What are you really talking about here, Katsura?” Gintoki asked, not sure why he felt so poked and defensive when he _knew_ this had something to do with Shouyou. Was it guilt Katsura felt? Or something else? Gintoki's voice came out more clipped than intended. “This goes back to what I did on that hill, doesn't it? This is about Shouyou.”

“This isn't about Sensei, this is about _you_.” Katsura turned on Gintoki then with hostility he had never seen before, chilling the blood in Gintoki's veins. _He blames me._

Katsura didn't hesitate to continue. “Always throwing yourself into fights, always putting other people first, always in harm's way without even thinking how that might stress other people out. You think I don't notice? How you always blame yourself? How you always shoulder the burden? You're always ready to put the blade through your belly, but no one sees this as a problem because you make it look so noble.”

Gintoki opened his mouth, but nothing immediately came out. _You make it look so noble._ “This- This isn't about _me_, this is about you, Zura. What does this have to do with what happened last night?”

Katsura leaned in so close so fast Gintoki almost jerked away. He was riled, determined to get his point across, the logic, the truth. “What does this have to do with what happened? I _understand_ you, Gintoki. I understand why you do the things you do, what you must be feeling, what you must be hiding because of _Sensei_. Because I've considered the situation from _your_ perspective. Have you or Takasugi ever looked at me and wondered what it might be like? To be the only one who comes out unscathed? Uninjured? The one to hold the group together? Or did the two of you just look at each other and decide to compete over who gets to be more miserable?”

_It's not like that… is it? _Gintoki opened his mouth to argue but nothing came out. Katsura had struck quick, leaving Gintoki unable to counter or even keep up. Gintoki glanced away, caught. Guilty. A quiver settled in his chest, a flighty feeling and a sinking fear that Katsura was going to leave, that Katsura had been holding in this hatred the _entire_ time.

“No. You didn't stop to consider me once, did you? You didn't lose everyone, Gintoki. You and Takasugi still have me as long as you want me. But I lost all of you. You and him have never been the same.” Katsura said. He heaved out a heavy breath then, his voice deflating. “I couldn't save either of you.”

In no more than a whisper. “Zura-”  
  
“I'm sorry.” Katsura said, attention to the side. He sounded bitter. “I shouldn't have come here like this.”

Gintoki didn't move, didn't respond. His brain was trying to process and break down the new information, trying to catch up with what was happening. _I always thought you healed, I always thought you recovered because you had made some sense of what I had to do. __Y__ou're smarter than us. __Stronger..._

Katsura turned back him suddenly, his eyes going soft when Gintoki recoiled. Katsura's expression turned dejected. He scooted slightly closer to Gintoki, trying to maintain eye contact again. “It was a mistake, I made a mistake last night, Gintoki. And I made a mistake right now talking to you like that. I'm sorry.”

Gintoki looked away, his chest constricting painfully, not making sense of what he was feeling. Accused? No, because everything Katsura had said rang true. Hurt? Gintoki couldn't allow himself that, because he had never considered Katsura's position, and even now, he wasn't sure he fully understood what Katsura was getting at. Katsura had become his ray of hope, his guide to a more peaceful present. _If Katsura can forgive me for what I've done, then I can forgive myself. If Katsura can smile and move on, can change his destructive habits to keep the peace, then so can I._

So then what was this? What was this sense of failure that Katsura was conveying?

“Zura, I'm so sorry.”

Zura huffed then, a non-serious sound. “I didn't mean… Gintoki, I'm not blaming you for this. You just...” Katsura clicked his tongue before shifting even closer, scooting to fully face him. He leaned forward, placing both hands on Gintoki's knees. “You really frustrate me sometimes. Sometimes I spend so much time worrying about you and him that I forget about myself. And I spend so much time going 'it's not that bad, Takasugi and Gintoki have it so much worse' that I… I forget it's okay to mourn. And then the pressure builds and builds. I didn't come to you sooner because I don't want to pull you back down and I didn't think it was this bad.”

Gintoki turned his way, his lips stubbornly sealed. This all went back to Shouyou. Their lives had all fallen apart that day. Katsura had seemed so strong, so much like his usual self. _But something had been off._

“I didn't want to bother you with this because you already have so much going on in that head of yours. We're the same, Gintoki. We're still fighting the same wars. And we should both heal from what happened. Together.” Katsura said, his hands rubbing against Gintoki's knees. He looked ready to cry, but his eyes were still dry. “So that neither of us ever do something like this. Again.”

Gintoki clicked his tongue, glancing away at that shared word. _Again._ His voice came out even, if not quiet. “Zura, this is about you right now.”

“_Technically,_ this is about all three of us. All because instead of bonding together over what happened, we drove each other away.” Katsura said. “I shouldn't have let you two suffer. I know there's nothing I can really do to help, but sometimes I think there had to have been something. Some other option. Some way to make you two realize everything is going to turn out alright.”

“Zura. You're taking on too much responsibility.” Gintoki said, all too familiar with that line of thinking. But he stopped himself from continuing, the self-blame sitting right there. _This whole time you've been hurting, and I've been so focused on myself... but... this is what he's saying too..._

“Am I?” Katsura asked. “Am I really taking on any more unnecessary responsibility than you are? You asked me what the hell I was thinking last night, and all I can tell you is I wasn't thinking at all. I was upset. Fed up with myself for failing. Circling through the same thoughts, and only now, too late, do I see a better option.”

Gintoki's lip pulled in the corner, understanding exactly what Katsura meant by _all of it._

“So I'll stay.” Katsura said suddenly, the topic abruptly shifting. His tone perked, lips quirking into a strained smile, everything changing so fast that it caught Gintoki off guard.

“What?”

“Otose told me to stay for a few days, and I'll stay. With you. If you'll have me.” Katsura said, voice wavering and his eyes finally turning wet. “Gintoki, I'm sorry. I won't let it get this bad again, I won't do this to you again.”

“Of course you can stay, of course I'll have you.” Gintoki said. He leaned forward, wiping at Katsura's face with his sleeve. “Zura, you're a mess right now, but we'll fix you back up. You'll be okay.”

“Can you be okay with me?” Katsura asked. He gently placed his hand over Gintoki's, trapping Gintoki's hand to his cheek. “Can we do this together?”

“Of course.” Gintoki didn't hesitate, even though he was pretty sure he knew what Katsura was getting at. Of course, even though he was pretty sure _being okay_ was going to be easier said than done. _Can I even be okay? Or will I just disappoint him further? __Will he do this again?_

Gintoki's thoughts must have shown on his face, because Katsura laughed. “Don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Gintoki asked softly, trying to laugh off the emotion welling up behind his eyes.

“Like _that_.” Katsura said. “We need to stand up and live beautifully.”

Gintoki stared, his lips pulling thin before he pulled Katsura into him. Mindful of Katsura's injured arm, Gintoki hugged him tight, trying to hold everything back. When Katsura wrapped his arms around Gintoki's shoulders and squeezed, Gintoki finally cried.

“You said earlier that I haven’t lost you.” Gintoki's voice didn't betray his fear even if the wet patch on Katsura's neck did. “You make sure I don't.”

Katsura sobbed.

They clung long enough for Katsura to start to laugh humorlessly about how much of a mess they were. Gintoki pulled away then, hands still on Katsura's shoulders as Katsura snorted through the last of his tears. Wiping his face, Katsura sat up, facing Gintoki. He smiled, kind but sad and so much like Shouyou, before gesturing with his injured arm. “This bandage is really itchy now. Will you help me change it?”

Gintoki glanced at the bandages before looking back up to Katsura. He took a second to reorient himself before nodding and wiping at his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I'll help you. You'll complain if you do it yourself and it isn't tight enough.”

“I will.” Katsura agreed, leaning his face in dangerously close. “We're going to do better?”

“Yeah. We'll do our best.” Gintoki said, eyes flickering down to Katsura's lips and lingering there for a moment. He finally laughed himself, very unsure but determined to move forward, wiping at his face. He fixed Katsura with a very serious look. “But if you're staying, you're paying rent.”


End file.
